


Hungry Like the Wolf

by SimplyTsundere



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: 1930's AU, 30s lingo, Aliases, Dark Marco, Flirting, Fluff, Jean Is A Little Shit, JeanMarco Gift Exchange 2017, M/M, Mafia AU, Mafia Leader Marco, Marco Is a Little Shit, Marco likes strawberry milkshakes and Jean's ass, Super Strength Marco, Superpowers, Teasing, They're both shits, Waiter Jean, and Jean is suspcious, he's shady, roller skating, speakeasy, trust me - Freeform, vintage au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-16 02:05:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13044234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimplyTsundere/pseuds/SimplyTsundere
Summary: In the time of prohibition and abnormals, those with genetic mutations, Marco Bodt is situated neatly between a rock and a suspicious place. As an abnormal with a genetic mutation of enhanced strength, Marco prefers to keep knowledge of his true life swept beneath a rather heavy rug. When a waiter at the diner he frequents every Friday night for a strawberry milkshake begins to flirt with him, he finds it more than a touch odd. Unsure if the man is honestly interested, trying to get close to him to kill him, or is a cop, Marco devises a few plans to shake him loose and figure him out. When none work and he discovers Jean is just a regular guy with a genuine interest, he takes him out a roller rink where more than a few mishaps befall them. By the end of the night, Marco is convinced Jean is crazier than a box of frogs, but didn't mind that the night ended with a few kissess. The next morning a note is delivered to his place of work; someone has kidnapped Jean. Why would someone kidnap him after one night together? Why had Jean waited months before making his move? What was going on? Was it a trap; he didn't know, but he fully intended to find out.





	Hungry Like the Wolf

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fluffyaoi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffyaoi/gifts).



> Okay! Here is my piece for the JeanMarco gift exchange. While there were pieces of the first prompt that did not mesh well with me, so I tried to keep some of the most important pieces from the first and work it into something I was both comfortable writing and that I felt comfortable having my name on. I'm a big believer in the fact that if I don't think I can do it well, and it's for someone else, then I might want to try something else. I knew I couldn't do the first bit justice no matter how I would try, so I just did this for it. I hope it isn't complete shite.
> 
> Now for some terms you may need to know, and some disclaimers.
> 
> Bulls - Cops  
> Horsefeathers, Doll, etc - Terms of endearment (Horsefeathers can also be used in the context of "Holy shit/horsefeathers!")  
> Moll - Mobster's girl  
> Hooch/Shine - Booze/Alcohol  
> flivver - specific slang for a Model T  
> Cash/Check/Bank's Closed - These are terms for kissing. IE: Cash or Check was basically kiss me now or later. Bank's closed was basically the neither option or the maybe next time.
> 
> Disclaimers:
> 
> Though set in the 1930's I have the more specific area of 1933 in mind just before the end of prohibition which is why I mention the end of the law in sight :D (Also if you've never seen a 1930's roller skate please do yourself a favor and look up those crazy death traps! Can you say NUPE!)
> 
> ~Hugs & Kisses,  
> ❤♠Neko❤♠

Black terrazzo speckled floors, shining cerulean tabletops, and the overpowering stench of grease; the Wonderbar was always the same. Surprised it even survived with the drop in prices for goods, Marco Bodt sat in his usual corner booth, back to the wall, eyes glued to the door, as he contemplated how it stayed it around. He had to admit that he was rather glad it was still hanging on despite the world around them still crumbling. It was close enough to his work places that he could easily spend a part of the night there with something to sate his sweet tooth before heading back.

As an added bonus to the delectable strawberry milkshakes, the section he always sat in had the best looking waiter in the establishment. Maybe the rundown diner wasn’t the best place to be, but when he was sparkling amber eyes he knew it was damn decent one. It wasn’t as if he was too familiar with the best places of the city anyhow, as he fancied himself a surveyor of the darker underbelly. Running the city without anyone being able to definitively place that weight atop his shoulders had its benefits, such as being free to spend his time ogling the waiter as he stepped over to his table.

Not even four inches shorter, the waiter’s height was close to his own, but his frame was a bit more lithe. Still, it was relatively simple to see that he had a frame better suited to something aside from waiting tables. His sharp, masculine features, the odd, yet stunning, combination of flaxen and pecan shaded hair styled up towards the front with just a hint of gel, even down to the way the button up he wore pulled in to display a bit of the contours of his body had Marco’s attention anywhere but on his milkshake. While it was a bit strange to see a male waiter, he couldn’t very well disagree with it in any form.

There were a few other things that caused Marco’s suspicions to raise however. As a regular of the diner for over a year, Marco knew everyone working in the place as well as the owners. He’d been working on a deal with the owner, and suddenly this new guy shows up out of nowhere. Seemingly with no past, the waiter was already on Marco’s radar as someone to watch out for. Judging by the callouses on the man’s fingers, Marco knew he was used to at least some other form of labor. His figure, the muscle of his biceps shown off by his charcoal uniform, said that he wasn’t waiter by profession either. Just who was he and what did he want?

Maybe he was just paranoid; that was bound to happen when every sneeze, bat of his eyelashes, and twitch of a muscle was watched by the law. Being an abnormal wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t as if he’d chosen to have a mutation in his DNA. Twisting the silver bangle affixed around his wrist, Marco glanced down to see the engraving “Marco Bodt: A1, Unstable.” How kind of them to remind him everyday since birth that he was a fucking freak. Too many people were worried about people like him destroying their way of life to worry about any “normal” person. Marco, on the other hand, found regular people much more untrustworthy.

Staring at the man from his seat, Marco began to laugh. True enough that he didn’t trust many, it was certainly smarter for them to be concerned about him, only, this waiter didn’t ever seemed perturbed by him. In fact, he was overly friendly which managed to throw him off kilter. Shouldn’t have he been more suspicious of Marco than he of the waiter? Perhaps in a normal place that would have been true, but there he sat attempting to work out just who he was for the umpteenth time since he’d arrived. The waiter was his type, had a sense of humor, a nice look, and just seemingly popped up out of nowhere inside his favorite place to be? Coincidental….except that Marco didn’t believe in coincidences. Something was definitely amiss.For the last five months, he’d sipped his milkshake in peace while attempting to unearth any secrets of the waiter. The most likely answer thus far? A gun for hire.

Anyone and near everyone wanted Marco dead, and it wouldn’t have been the first time someone had sent someone to ice him. It was all because of who he was. During the day he ran the salvage yard, getting covered in dirt and grime, but at night he began to don his suit and trilby before ducking into his speako. Prohibition would be stricken down soon enough, and he wanted deals with restaurants before that. Unfortunately, with the new waiter around he made it difficult to discuss things so openly. The waiter, however, always managed to interrupt and prod for more information. Who else would attempt to weasel into a deal like that? Was he entirely daft, or looking for information on him? Exactly. His money was on the latter, and therefore he silently tried to size him up until the man would be forced to make his move. Marco seemed at a disadvantage, however, when he soon realized that night was the night that he’d make his move.

Being so obviously his type, the waiter slinked up to him with a smile and his milkshake “Here you go.”

“Thanks, doll,” Marco replied charmingly with a dazzling smile to reciprocate the waiter’s.

“Oh,” the waiter began as he pointed at Marco’s left cheek “you’ve got a grease spot. Should I get you a towel?”

Locating the spot by smearing it with his thumb, Marco shrugged “Nah, maybe it add to my charm. Thanks though.”

The waiter’s amber eyes rolled back as his hands were placed firmly on his hips “Mhmm, or it makes you look like you just came from work meaning that you’d be hungry for more than that milkshake.”  
  
“Really?” Marco hummed before nodding. “How about you bring me some fries then?”

“Sure,” the waiter responded cheerily before trotting off to the back as he scribbled something down. Marco had to wonder why, of all nights, was he being so damn excited. What had happened? Didn’t matter though, in the end, because he was too busy sipping his milkshake and admiring the view. It was no surprise to anyone that he was gay, but being gay wasn’t that big of a deal to anyone as they mostly minded their business. Sometimes, sure, names got thrown around behind someone’s back, but people were more worried about his genetic mutation than his bed partner’s gender. It just seemed like another thing to make sure the man could get closer to him, and potentially kill him….or try to anyhow.

After a moment the waiter returned with a small basket of french fries “Here ya go.” Before Marco could blink the waiter was sliding into the seat across from him. Just what the hell was this guy’s game? “You know we close---”

Chocolate eyes narrowing, Marco interrupted “At 9pm, yes, I am aware. Why are you sitting down? Isn’t that considered unprofessional of you?”

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” came the sultry reply as he leaned onto the table supported by his elbows.

Feeling the brush of the man’s foot at his ankle, Marco sat up and cleared his throat “I’d keep your distance from me if I was you. You think I work at a salvage yard because it’s fun? That I like it? Not exactly. It’s so I don’t hurt people like you.”

“What a pretty bracelet,” he replied as he watched Marco slide his sleeve up to reveal the engraved I.D. “Tell me about it? I’ve never met an abnormal before.”

Sighing, Marco explained softly “I could crush every single bone in your body if I wasn’t careful, sweetheart. Without any effort at all. You oughta steer clear. I’m a bad man; I do bad things.”

Leaning closer, his amber eyes glimmered curiously “Oh yeah? Like what?”

Wishing to get a laugh, Marco met him across the table and whispered “I eat boys like  _ you  _ for dessert.”

“Haha, well, that’s not very bad,” came the flirty retort “but why does it say you’re unstable?”

“Because I can’t control my strength sometimes,” Marco shrugged as he leaned back to the booth “especially if I get mad. Most days throwing around junked out T’s and scrap metal is easy, but the hardest thing I have to do? Act normal. So, all of that being said, why don’t you take that foot, those gorgeous goo-goo eyes, and that devil’s smile, and keep them all to yourself. I don’t wanna hurt you, kid, and I’d rather not give anyone a reason to send a NEUT after me.”

“Aww,” the waiter pouted, thin pale lips puffed out, “I promise I’ll keep your secret to myself, but when you compliment me like that….it makes it the  _ only _  thing I want to keep for myself.”

“That ain’t smart, kid,” Marco chuckled as he popped a milkshake dipped fry into his mouth.

Scoffing, the waiter responded firmly “My name is Jean, and I’m  **not**  a kid. I’m 27.”

“Coulda fooled me,” Marco responded. “Now, why would a nice guy like you want something to do with a guy like me, huh?”

Gaze holding Marco’s steadily, Jean hummed “Mmm, well, you seem nice enough to me. Big, pretty doe eyes, cute little freckles banded across your face, enticing tanned skin, beautiful smile, nice build, polite, flirtatious…. What about you  _isn’t_  to like? I don’t care about that bracelet. I’m not scared of you. You’ve been coming in here every week for the last half a year almost. We both know that people like us, who prefer  _other_ types of partners, are called faeries behind our backs, but we know that being different isn’t all that bad. So, c’mon, you look like a guy who knows how to have some fun, yeah?”

“Perhaps I do,” Marco hummed as he ran the tip of his finger across the hand Jean laid on the table. “Is that what you want, doll? To have some fun?”

Retracting his hand, Jean gave him a smile “Yeah, I do, and you seem like _  just _  the one to show me. My shift ends when we close. Wait for me?”

“Ain’t got nothin’ better to do,” Marco shrugged “so why not? I’ll finish this and wait for you outside the front door. Just let me go ahead and pay--”

“On me,” Jean beamed “as a thank you.”

Not one to accept gifts, Marco shook his head “No thanks. You don’t owe me anything, and, as I see it, by the time the night’s done you’ll be cursing my name.”

“Don’t know your name to curse it,” he responded as he got to his feet.

“By the end of the night you’ll learn it,” Marco winked as Jean walked off, likely to begin cleaning up. He was going to take his time finishing his food, but he wondered about Jean a little more. Eager was an understatement. The guy was practically begging to drag him out of the diner, making Marco’s mind rush to conclusions quicker than normal. If he’d truly only wanted a date then why had it taken him five months to ask? It had to have been a trap for something, but it wasn’t like Marco couldn’t defend himself. Jean was absolutely gorgeous, so why shouldn’t he at least see if he could get something out of such an obvious trap? That wasn’t so bad, was it?

Upon finishing up his food, Marco left some cash on the table and made his way outside. Bringing out his matchbox, he quickly struck a match off the side of the brick building and used it to light up a cigarette. He stuffed the box of Lucky Strike’s back into his pants pocket and used the building to brace himself as he leaned back into it. Resting against the wall took enough weight off himself so that he could actively try to relax. A lot was going to happen shortly, and he needed to decide on how to act in case something unexpected were to happen. Strolling back into his office with Jean present was likely to lead to more questions than he wished for.

Snubbing out his cigarette and flicking the butt, Marco straightened up and adjusted his trilby before turning to see Jean walking towards him “So, finished up?”

“Mhmm,” Jean nodded as he stepped closer “so where to?”

“A fun place,” Marco answered with a cunning smirk “wasn’t that what you wanted? Just follow me. It’s not very far; a couple blocks.” With a few simple words spoken, Marco began to walk forward in hopes Jean would walk first and ask any questions later. Soon enough, Jean’s stride fell into pace with his own. The two walked side by side without so much a single word said between them. Passing by several condemned buildings from the older parts of town began to make Jean stick closer by him. Marco got a chuckle from it. Something about that struck him as out of character. The guy didn’t seem one to be afraid of anything, in fact, Marco suspected him to be the type to ruffle his feathers at something, buck up a bit, make himself seem all tough. This was yet another sign that something was amiss.

Deciding to see just how far he could take things, Marco slipped an arm around Jean’s slender hips. For a second, Jean tossed him a sideways glance but allowed the action nonetheless. Continuing on as if nothing had happened, Marco began to lead him down a narrow back alley. At the end of the short alley was a rusted metal door while the slat at the top appeared to be perfectly clear of the substance. Marco freed himself of Jean’s company and approached the door. Knocking four times rather lightly followed by three knocks so loud he practically vibrated the door, Marco stood back and waited.

“Oh shit,” came a bellow as the slat slid back “sorry boss. Wasn’t expectin’ ya back. Who’s tha’ squirt ya palling ‘round with, huh?”

Glancing back at Jean, Marco grinned “Didn’t expect to be back. He’s a… _ friend. _  Let us in.”

“You got it,” the man replied as he pulled open the door to allow both Marco and Jean entrance. Leading Jean inside, Marco stepped back and once again secured his hold around his waist. Upon walking past the threshold, the man on the other side of the door shut it behind them and turned to give Marco quite the bold smile. Standing of his height, the blonde, barrel chested man cast his glacial blue eyes over to Jean, eyeing him toes to ears. He could feel Jean’s aura morphing as he stood beneath the scrupulous gaze. Anyone would find Reiner intimidating as large as he was, but the pinstriped suit gave away exactly what he did for Marco.

“Any news, Reiner?” Marco inquired as he cleared his throat to distract him.

Shaking his head, Reiner answered “Nope, none. Been a pretty quiet night so far. Everyone’s just enjoyin’ themselves.”

Lines around Marco’s mouth creased as he smiled broadly “I see. Very good. I’ll be in my office if the need arises to call on me.” Turning to head off, Marco tugged Jean along “Come now, must get to the bartender, hmm? That’s where the fun really begins.” Jean’s amber eyes scanned the dimly lit surroundings, noticing the rather unsavory crowd lingering about. Of course, in a place serving alcohol there would always be those on the lam skulking about. Marco noticed his apprehension to his surroundings and dragged him over to the rustic mahogany bar. Judging by the scuffs on its surface it had certainly seen better days.

“How are you, boss? The usual?” The bartender asked, his skeptical turquoise eyes uncomfortably residing on Jean.

“Make it two, Eren,” Marco answered with a slight nod. “What’s wrong, Jean, you seem….unnerved?”

Jean kept his eyes on Marco as he responded “I’m fine. Thanks for the drink…” Taking their drinks from the bartender, Marco lead the way to the back of the room, down a L-shaped hallway, his office being at the end. Giving him the okay to push open the door, Jean carefully turned the brass doorknob and entered a lavish burgundy room. For a moment he seemed puzzled at where to sit, so Marco brushed past him and shut the door. Taking the seat behind the oak desk, Marco sat down the two glasses of clear liquid and propped his feet up on the edge of the desk. He watched Jean carefully sip the liquid, lip curling up, and nose wrinkling after downing the acrid liquor. It looked to all the world like Marco’s new company wasn’t exactly used to drinking.

“Aww, not like hooch?” Marco teased as he turned up his glass.

“I could take it or leave it,” Jean replied before musing “I can’t believe there was a speakeasy here. In an old bank?”

Marco shrugged “Ain’t no bulls gettin’ in if that’s what you’re afraid of. This place has been standing strong long as I’ve been runnin’ it. Plus, we have certain security parameters.”

“Oh, I believe you, just not what I expected of you when I said fun,” Jean responded as he sat down the glass on the desk. “I meant more along the lines of, like, roller skating…or… _ something _ ….I dunno.” He should have known. The kid was fucking normal. If he’d been there to get dirt on him, he’d have wanted to see more of the speako. Jean might’ve have wanted to see the gambling parlor, where he brought in the deliveries, prodded him for information about where his supplier was, about the deals he had been making around town, or any information on his group. No; as it turned out Jean may have just been working up the nerve to ask him out. There he was trying to scare the boy. Great. Fantastic. There was only one way to make it up to him. Businesses didn’t only pay him protection; he practically owned their deeds.

“Roller skating, huh? I think I know just the place.” Leaning over to a metal box hanging above the rotary phone, Marco opened the front to reveal multiple sections of dangling keys. After retrieving a set of keys with a bright yellow dab of varnish, Marco shook them “Let’s go then. I happen to be sweet with a pair of skates. How about we go shake a lil’ somethin’, horsefeathers?”

Jean’s amber eyes glimmered a brilliant citrine as he nodded “Absolutely! I  _ have _  to see that!” Knowing then, by that gleam in his eyes, that Jean had been some hopeless kid keeping a flame lit for him, Marco opted to take him out and show him the time he should have in the first place. He was easy on the eyes, a bit bold though his cheeks did color petunia pink throughout the night, and that had been before the hooch, and Jean maybe wouldn’t be so bad to play around with. Going out for a date might be fun anyhow, so he lead Jean out of his office, through the back exit, and around to where his car sat.

Staring at the glisten of his model T, Jean’s eyes widened and Marco grinned proudly “Get in. I’m a good driver, promise it so.”

“Beautiful,” Jean breathed.

Opening the passenger door, Marco gesture a hand through “Well go on. She’s a beautiful flivver alright, but she’s better when she’s runnin’. Be sure to buckle in, buttercup.” Jean willingly climbed into the rouge and black automobile, both anxious and a bit giddy at the prospect of going somewhere. Once he was strapped in, Marco did the same and fired up the car. The roller rink wasn’t too far away, and if the owner had an issue with him taking a spot check….well, then he could bring that up to his face should he be so brave. He could do as he damn well pleased so long as he owned the place and the owner with it.

As they pulled into the desolate parking lot of the shabby roller rink, Jean looked back “No way….you own a roller rink?!”

“Uh,  _ sort of _ ….in a roundabout kinda way,” Marco evaded as he got out of the car and headed towards the front door. The neon sign welcoming in the large crowds the rink normally held had been long turned off, but with the flip of a switch once inside, everything roared to life. Vibrant lighting along with colored spots began to illuminate the facility. Having only been to the place a handful of times, Marco wasn’t entirely sure where everything was. Pointing out the skates, Jean eagerly lead Marco by the wrist over to the selection. Figuring they might as well go ahead and get strapped into the metal death traps, Marco opted to help Jean strap his pair on.

Sitting down atop the colorful speckled carpet, Marco tried his best to focus on what he was doing but Jean was making things difficult. Those gorgeous eyes bored so intently into him as he reached around his ankle to tighten the leather strap securely around him. Unfortunately, not being able to focus on the task meant that the very moment Marco’s hand beneath the skate fumbled. The steel slipped from his hand and the buckle in his hand turned to nothing but iron shavings as he attempted to grab it before it fell.

“Shit! I’m sorry,” Marco apologized profusely as Jean chewed on his lip to retain his laughter from looking at the mangled piece of steel. Marco sighed. Yet again, he managed to destroy something. He should have known as much. Seriously, every pair of goo-goo eyes would likely be the death of him.

Rising to his feet, he moved off to grab another pair of skates, taking the first one back with him. Clumsy as always seemed to be his curse whenever he found himself trying to impress anyone. Without fail, the dangling leather strap from the strap brushed against his calf giving him reason to startle. Flailing as the strap rubbed against him, Marco jolted and twisted in his step succeeding only in noticing the ground rising up to meet him as he thrust his arms out to brace for impact. He should have known, honestly, that the impact zone created in attempt to brace his fall would have been worse than just gracefully accepting his fall in the first place. No, he had to go and try to save it, because he knew that Jean was watching him.

Pulling himself out of the massive crater he’d left in the flooring, Marco dusted himself off. The scratch on his cheek was his only battle wound, meanwhile the roller rink had seen better days around it’s caved in flooring next to the snack bar. Another contractor he’d have to call.

Rushing over, Jean screeched “Are you alright?!”

Marco nodded swiftly, anxious to get past the question “Fine, but the floor isn’t as lucky. It happens a lot. Let’s just--  _ ugh, _  let’s just get you in a pair of skates and start the damned music.”

Jean chuckled “Sounds good to me, man.” Trotting along at his side, snickering all the while, Jean waited until Marco had found a set of replacement skates for him. Locating his query, Marco gestured for Jean to sit along one of the sofas as he tried the skate on, more focused on what he was doing than on the previous attempt. “So, do you break  _ everything  _ you touch?”

Glancing up with a scowl, Marco sighed “Nearly. When I’m not focused on what I’m doing anyway.”

“Then the skate?” Jean posed.

“Focused too much on you and the way you were starin’ at me,” he admitted easily, causing a peony flush to creep into Jean’s skin.

“And the fall?” He prodded farther.

“Worried about looking stupid,” Marco chuckled awkwardly as he finally adjusted Jean’s skates to the perfect amount.

Reaching down to grab Marco’s skates, Jean smiled “Let me get those….and for what it’s worth, you didn’t look stupid. Rather, I kinda like getting to see you fumble; it’s  _ cute.” _  Furrow in his brows sinking the more Jean carried on, Marco rolled his eyes and allowed Jean to adjust his skates for him. In the moment it was naught but a slight annoyance, however, once they made their way onto the rink it became much more than that. He quickly discovered that just because Jean wished to go roller skating that it didn’t mean he was any good at it. Stumbling, instead of gliding, to the music appeared to be Jean’s form.

Clinging to his waist tightly, Jean looked over at Marco the second he began to laugh “Hah, you must be having difficulties, Jean.”

“Shut your trap,” he barked before backpedaling “I’m just not exactly the best at it.”

“Then hold on _  tighter,”  _ Marco teased as he yanked Jean flush against his side. Warmth exuded from the touch of Jean’s body so close to his own; it was something he found comforting. Last he could recall it had been awhile since someone caught his eye, but Jean’s company was inviting. Something about feeling the way he clung so desperately to him as they began to get the feel for the skates was exciting….it was fun. If it had been too long since the last time he’d spent any time with someone he may have felt a spark with, then it may have been just as long since the last time he felt as if nothing weighed him down. For just that moment it was nice to breeze easily around the rink while Jean held to him.

Marco put some distance between the two when it was clear Jean was getting the hang of it, but Jean held out a hand “I may be able to move okay, but would you take the chance of me falling?”

Knowing very well that he didn’t want him getting hurt, Marco placed his hand into Jean’s “Very well, let’s move to the music then, shall we?” Spinning around in the skates as the music flowed through the air, Marco and Jean spent a song or two acclimating to their skates before getting a little more daring. Jean broke his hold of Marco, obviously feeling brave enough to strike away from the protection of both the outer wall and Marco himself, to glide to the center of the rink. Entranced by the sway of his motions, Marco watched him dance with a smile before deciding to join him.

Outstretching his hand as if to beckon him, Jean grinned and waited for the warmth of Marco’s hand in his own. Unfortunately, as he was focused on watching Marco, with his back to everything else, he’d failed to noticed he was no longer going in a circle. Instead, Jean was travelling backwards and destined to collide with the outer wall of the rink. Seeing exactly what was about to happen, Marco rushed to jerk Jean away from the side of the rink. Succeeding, he managed to yank Jean hard to his chest just as the two tumbled to the ground. Wrapping his arms around Jean to protect him, Marco braced for the fall into the ground.

Somehow Marco had managed to keep Jean safe without crushing his ribcage as he held him against his chest. Opening his eyes as he felt the ground beneath them still flat, Marco had to blink back his surprise. How was the floor still perfectly fine, and why was Jean grinning like a cat who’d eaten the canary.

_ “Oops,”  _ Jean purred as he held Marco’s gaze. “Sorry, Superman, I guess I got tripped up.”

“Does that make you Lois Lane?” Marco posed as dropped his hands from Jean’s body to the floor.

Jean shrugged his shoulders “Guess so. So, what’s it like to be Superman, huh?”

“Frustrating,” he sighed “I don’t get control of the powers I have and although I have an arch nemesis I don’t get the girl, or the equivalent. I run the risk of literally breaking everything I touch. Person, glass, even a car door; the reason my car looks so new is because I’ve had to search the salvage yard countless times to replace every piece of her. Sometimes I accidentally crush the doors or just rip them plain off. Being in my line of work means that people are scared of me anyway, so I’ve always just used it to my advantage.”

“Is there a reason to be scared of you?” Jean asked seriously. “Because I haven’t seen one yet. I know now the reason you make me sit things down on the table is so that you don’t crush anything. You said before though, that if you’re focused it’s fine, right? Then just focus on me.” Without a second to think, Marco was suddenly finding a silken warmth over his lips. Being so in surprise, he’d not reacted at the kiss. Only when Jean appeared startled that he’d reacted differently, did he reach up, slip his hand around his neck, and tug Jean back to his lips. Losing himself into the intoxicating kiss was far too easy. Jean’s lips still retained an alcoholic twinge, providing quite a thrilling experience.

A content sigh escaped Marco’s lips as he pulled away from him “I’m a bad man, Jean, there are plenty of reasons to be scared of me; I like that you aren’t. You planned this didn’t you?”

Humming delightedly, Jean nodded “Mhmm, I did. At the restaurant you always seem so cool, so composed, so distant, and on airs like people are watching you. I can’t gauge you like that, so I wanted to see what happens if you were out of that element. Who knew you’d be so clumsy….it’s adorable! Really, though, will you tell me who you are?”

“My name is Marco Bodt. I’m a 1st class, unstable, 29 year old abnormal. My mutation is super strength. I also happen to own a pair of keys to over half the businesses in the city. I know where to find all the speakeasies and the gambling parlour,” Marco explained before smiling “but now it’s your turn.”

“Jean Kasey,” Jean replied swiftly “I moved here about eight months ago from Eyon Canyon. I’m 27, I work in a diner, and I’ve been stuck in the city without anything to do. During the time I’ve been here, I’ve found myself drawn to a regular, mysterious customer who always orders a strawberry milkshake every Friday. I find myself wondering, Marco, may I kiss you again?”

Scoffing, Marco answered “Why bother asking when you’ve got me pinned to the floor? C’mere.” Jean’s lips curled into a smile he could feel against his own the second he captured them. Sinking into the embrace, Marco’s chest heaved with the labor of trying to catch his breath between Jean’s sweltering kisses. While he wished to ultimately lose every piece of hesitation he had about spending all the time in the world indulging both himself and Jean, he knew he couldn’t. Tangling his fingers in Jean’s hair, skimming his hands down his chest, gripping his hips, or running his hands anywhere could lead to far more dangerous places.

It seemed that Jean could sense the apprehension Marco had about touching him. As his tongue brushed Marco’s lip, taking the opportunity to slip it past once given the opening, Jean closed the small space between them. Laying flush to Marco’s chest, Jean took hold of his hands and placed them atop his hips before moving their jointed hands up his sides. The gesture didn’t go unappreciated by the then eager Marco. It was so strange to meet someone who didn’t give a damn about his mutation or what he did. Jean was a ray of golden sun beneath the darkened clouds of shitty city.

“Mmm, now you’re enthusiastic,” Jean purred after he tugged Marco’s lip in his teeth.

Curling his fingers carefully around Jean’s hips, he smirked “Ya tellin’ me to cool my jets?”

“Quite to the contrary,” Jean replied seductively. “I find myself wondering what kind of rooms are in this place.”

“Probably one of the kind you’re thinking of,” Marco sighed as he placed a delicate hand to Jean’s cheek “but I think it’s time I take you home. I ain’t breaking my code. Bank’s closed for now.”

Leaning into the touch of Marco’s hand, Jean pouted “Aww, then I guess I’ll have to take a check then.”

“Sure thing. Time to get you back,” Marco smiled as Jean got to his feet rather magnificently. Everything about their night had been rather intricately fabricated. Judging from the way Jean needed no help getting up, the way he’d admitted to setting up his fall, and down to the fact he’d reached the exit of the rink before he did….Jean knew how to skate. Someone getting the drop on him was unusual, which only made him both intrigued and suspicious all the same. Luckily, after they got their skates off, shut down the rink, and drove across the city to Jean’s apartment, things were able to wind down. Their night had proved to be the best Marco had experienced in a long while.

A kiss on the cheek and the promise of another night together had caused an airy bliss to settle into his chest. On the drive back to the speako, Marco wondered exactly what would be in store for their next date night. There was one thing he needed to do first though. It was still gnawing at him that Jean was so full of coincidences and contradictions. He needed to be looked into. There was no denying that Jean was incredible and that he was lying about something. Shaking the undeniable uncomfortable feeling when he’d talked about himself was damn near impossible.

Back in his office, he hung up the keys to the roller rink and made a note to himself to call for a contractor and to call the owner. A lot of repairs were going to have to be made due to his own slack but that was no surprise. A good bit of work was going to have to be taken care of come the morning. Fortunately, that meant work for the morning and he could home to sleep on things. He didn’t have to worry about a thing for the night; that was tomorrow Marco’s problem. For the night later consisted of  a short drive back to his place which meant he could still hold the night’s events fresh in his mind as he drifted off to sleep. Sweet dreams indeed.

Sunrise brought with it a refreshing night’s sleep and the prospect of a lot of paperwork. It wasn’t exactly thrilling work but, hey, someone had to do it. After a shower, throwing on one of his favorite suits, downing a cup of coffee, and smoking his morning cigarette, Marco made the drive to his office in the old bank. As he parked the car, he was rushed by none other than his bartender, Eren, and Reiner. Confusion and disgust settled in the furrow of their brows and snarl of their upper lips. In Reiner’s hand was a white envelope addressed to none other than himself. Taking it from his hold without a word, Marco opened it. Immediately he recognized the handwriting.

 

_ Marco, _

_ You ain’t too smart are ya? Leaving your boy all alone like that after last night. Did you really think we hadn’t noticed you were carrying a torch for the little punk? Come to Moorea Apothecary at midnight….if you want him back alive and in one piece. Alone. Don’t try nothing either. We’re watching. _

_ ~DH _

 

Ugh. Of course. Leave it to the rival he’d kicked out of the city a couple of months ago to lie in wait for something they could finally use against him. Threatening him by way of kidnapping Jean. How precious. He truly didn’t know a thing about Jean, so it was high time he looked to see if saving him would be worth it. He folded the letter and placed it into his breast pocket while ordering the pair of Eren and Reiner to follow him with a simple hand signal.

After he sat down, he looked to Reiner “When did this arrive?”

“Dunno, maybe sometime early this mornin’. Shut the place down by 3am and left,” Reiner answered. “What is it?”

“Ransom,” Marco droned “likely by Dorrion Harper and his bunch. They’re bitter I took their half of the city for my own, but that’s the game you play when you make a move against my family. Ymir has the eastern side of the city under control, so that leaves this to me. I’ll need to put in a few calls. Eren, have you spoken with Levi to know when he’s sending Isabel to deliver the next batch of shine?”

Nodding, Eren replied “Yeah, sure did. It’s coming in a few hours. He said before noon. What’s up?”

“Call Connie in for me when the two of you leave. I need information on someone, and Levi can help me with that. Meanwhile, if any of you have any knowledge on a man named Jean Kasey, 27, from Eyon Canyon, please, inform me immediately. That’s all,” Marco ordered with a dismissive hand. Both men rose from their seats and left him to do what things needed to be done. Picking up the phone, he dialed for his liquor producer and a man his family had known for decades.

Within a moment, a voice came over the receiver “Hello?”

“Levi,” Marco began “good morning. I’m sorry to call so early, but I have something I need to ask of you. Aren’t you from Eyon Canyon?”

“Yeah,” came the quick reply “but why is that important? Did that idiot behind the bar forget---”

Interrupting him before he could say anything farther, Marco chuckled “Haha, Eren told me the delivery would be before noon. I’m more curious about the town you grew up in. You used to tell me it was a small town, everyone knew everyone, close knit kinda place, but full of scum like us. You ever know a kid named Jean Kasey? Hair is two-toned, couple inches shorter than me, amber eyes, looks like he’s permanently pissed off at something? He’s around 27.”

Pausing a moment, Levi thought before answering “Nope. Never heard of him. It’s not just a place people forget faces either. Everyone in that godforsaken place is liable to shoot ya in the back when you aren’t lookin’. Whoever this guy is, is lying to you. Better dig a little more. Isabel will be there within an hour or two. She left at dawn, so I have to get back to it. Good luck, Marco.” The only man in the world who could hang up on him without a simple goodbye had done just that. Levi was not exactly a man that could be held up on the phone gabbing. He had more important things that required his time, and Marco needed just what he was producing so he let it slide.

Marco’s mind was storming with various ideas once Levi had told him what he needed. Jean was clearly lying about everything, down to his own name, which meant that he was either trying to start over, truly did want something from him, or was in on this whole “kidnapping” bit from the get go. Either way, he’d still meet up with his old rival and see for himself just what kind of things were going on. By the time he’d concreted that into his resolve, a knock came at the door.

“Come in,” Marco announced flatly. When the door cracked open he was staring at just the man he’d wanted to see. If anyone was capable of getting information it was Connie Springer. Having a plant in the police was always necessary and Connie had been with him from the start. Paperboy hat laid on top a shaved head, hazel eyes, short build, and dressed out of uniform in casual slacks and button up, Connie was easily able to blend anywhere. No one would give him a second glance and his fun personality often drew people to him. Having a man as brilliant as a chameleon always had its advantages.

Flopping a folder down onto Marco’s desk, Connie took a seat “That’s what I have on this Jean Kasey.”

Picking up the folder, opening it, and seeing nothing inside, Marco arched a brow “Nothing? You’re telling me you have nothing with this theatric?”

“Yup,” he cackled “‘cause the boy just don’t exist! Everything about him is fake. His name, his address, his fingerprints aren’t file so we can’t check that, and I put in a call to some other precincts….like Eyon Canyon. They’ve never heard of him, have no files on him, and not even the hospital has a birth record of him. Your boy is a ghost. What do you think on him?”

Marco leaned forward on his elbows “I don’t know yet. He had every chance to kill me if that’s what he was here for. It’s been months….why now? What was stopping him from making a move in the last several months? I don’t know what to make of him, but I have every intention to find out. You can go. Maybe do some actual work?”

“Haha, yeah, maybe. Let me know if you need anything, Marco. I’ll see you around,” Connie grinned as he took his leave. Marco gave him a nod and returned to organizing his thoughts. There was more than one thing amiss. If Jean had been working for Dorrion Harper then why had he waited so long to make his move? They could have done things sooner than stretch it out over a course of several months. Whatever this was, was too well thought out, too planned to have that arrogant prick’s name on it. Time was going to be spent making several more phone calls, including the ones to fix his mistakes in the roller rink.

Unlocking his bottom left desk drawer after spending hours on his tasks, Marco looked down at what awaited him. He abhorred having to resort to violence in any manner, that was much more his twin sister’s, Ymir, area of expertise. Just because he hated it, however, didn’t mean he didn’t get fair share of dirty hands in the process of taking over the city. He was much more likely to be behind the workings of their workings than the gritty work; he had enough of that in his cover job at the salvage yard. Of course, at the salvage yard was mostly where Ymir dropped off anything that needed to be or had already been, taken care of. Cleaning up after his sister was almost routine, now, unfortunately, this task fell to him and him alone.

When the time finally came Marco rose from his desk and downed his second glass of shine to steel his nerves. Before tossing on his overcoat and trilby, Marco reached into the drawer to remove his chest holster, pistol resting securely inside it. Ensuring it hung snugly centered against his left side, Marco then threw on his coat, his hat, and made a grand exit of the building. Dorrion Harper had his work cut out for him if he made the mistake to think that threatening him with anything was going to end pleasantly. Marco’s blood boiled in his veins just thinking about how that mangy rodent crawled out of its hovel to dare make such a bold act of revenge. If he wanted revenge; by god he’d see it.

Driving out to the old apothecary didn’t take nearly as long as he remembered it. Perhaps that was because under the veil of night he tended to have a lead foot when it came to the gas, but the conditions only exacerbated the habit. Taking a quick glance around to judge where to park, Marco noticed that there weren’t any other cars around. It was likely the sniveling rodent hadn’t the gaul to even announce he was there; instead he was parked elsewhere so he could make a run for it if the need arose. Deciding to plainly state he’d arrived, Marco parked in front of the door of the building and got out shortly thereafter.

Announcing his presence by walking in was too easy. No, he wanted something that would once again strike fear into vermin he’d already once run from the city. Withdrawing his sidearm, Marco ensured it was loaded and fired off a round into the air. Figuring that had been enough to get things started, he walked through the front door of the old store but saw no one present. Stepping through the back of the business where an empty storeroom awaited, he was greeted by three men dressed in the most ostentatious suits he’d ever seen in his life. Instinctively his lip curled in disgust at the sight. In front of a short, portly, balding man garbed in a burgundy and mustard suit was Jean. His hands were bound in a tight rope while he feet remained free. Whatever method they were using to keep him complacent was unknown, but from the looks of it, Jean didn’t appear to be in on the idea. Normally sharp features contorted with rage, his amber eyes raging with fury as he looked to Marco.

“This is actually quite amusing, Harper,” Marco called out from several paces back “you’ve got Shep and Jack as your backup? Pathetic. What’s even more hilarious to me though: you kidnapped a kid from a diner I took to a roller rink. He ain’t my moll, you fuckin’ twit. Yeah, he’s a damn looker, but you think me takin’ him for a spin is grounds to kidnap him in hopes of getting something from me?”

“If he ain’t ya moll,” Harper replied cheekily “then why’d ya show up anyway? I wanna talk shop with ‘cha, Bodt. Sure we can make a deal.”

Marco scoffed “Only thing I’m doin’ is walking outta here. Kill him for all I care. Everything I knew about him is a lie, so you got nothin’ on me. I might as well leave, right? You might as well trudge your way back into the sewers you crawled out of.”

Just as Marco slipped his hands in his pockets and turned back towards the door, Harper shouted “Marco Bodt, ‘at ain’t wise now is it?! You’re too soft to let ‘im die. Always was. Funny how your sister got more balls than you do! You aren’t just going to let him die!”

Eyes darkening as he paused, Marco turned his head over his shoulder “Yes, I am.” Tossing Jean a wink, he returned to his stride. Of course he wasn’t going to let them kill Jean. He wanted information from everyone there. Feigning his interest was about as close as it was going to get.

“Wait!  **Wait!!”**  Came a shrill response as Marco’s gloved hand landed on the doorknob. Grinning to himself, Marco couldn’t help but think that was all too easy. Returning his attention to the man, Marco schooled his features and began to walk towards them. With guns aimed at him, Marco stepped surely and stopped an arms length away from Dorrion Harper. “Put your gun down.”

“Does that make you feel safer?” Marco smirked smugly as he removed his gun, placing it at Dorrion’s feet. _  “It shouldn’t.” _  Knowing very well that he had the upper hand, Marco decided to take it. Lashing out at his guards, Marco easily swept the left’s leg out from under him hearing a reverberating snap as he did so. Breaking the man’s tibia hadn’t been part of the plan, but it worked nonetheless. Before the second could react to the event, Marco sent an elbow to his sternum, attempting to not put as much force behind it as he had his last strike. His goal wasn’t to kill anyone, only to maim and ensure they’d be reminded to not fuck with him in the future.

Seizing Dorrion by the collar, Marco snarled “Don’t you **EVER** try to threaten me in  **MY** city and don’t you **EVER**  lay your filthy little paws on an associate of mine. If I ever see you, catch wind of you in my city, or even hear your name brought to my ears, Dorrion Harper, I will hunt you down and kill you myself. Now, run.” Watching the wide sage eyes of the man dart between him and his injured friends, Marco scoffed and released his hold. A man like that wasn’t worth the crime jacket to come with his murder. Even seeing how he scampered off without his men was further proof of it.

Turning to grab his gun from the floor, Marco suddenly found himself faced with one more adversary. Jean had slipped free of his binds at some point during the scuffle. Kicking away the firearm from Marco’s grasp, Jean stood with his shoulders squared, his feet firmly planted, and his hands secured around a silver pistol with a black band around the hilt. It was a weapon he’d hoped to never see in his life. It was then he understood why he couldn’t find anything on Jean or his alias. Watching his features take a turn for something different, almost pride and arrogance, Marco noticed with it a change in his demeanor. Jean was so obviously not the giddy, soft, starry-eyed kid from the diner; he was a determined, proud, government official  who’d caught his prey perfectly in his crosshairs.

“So,” Marco sighed as he faced Jean “what’s your  _ real _  name, officer?”

“Agent, actually,” Jean grinned toothily “my first name was real, but it was everything else that was fake. Jean Kirschtein, Neutralizing Enforcement Unit, Black Band division. You saved my life, Marco, but it doesn’t change the fact that your name came up on my list to be neutralized.”

Sensing the new side of Jean was much more thrilling, Marco stepped closer to him “Yeah, and what did I do to get such an honor? I’m so excited to know they sent someone so gorgeous after me.”

Jean’s amber eyes rolled back “Still? Really? Wow. You’re a bad guy with a conscious, and while it’s a bit admirable it doesn’t change much. You kill people, Marco, only those you deem beyond reprehensible but that’s the least of the problems. Mafia leader with ties straight back to Sicily, bribery of government officials, bootlegging, illegal gambling parlour, racketeering, conspiracy to commit murder, fraud, extortion….you’re _  extremely  _ dangerous, Marco.”

“Didn’t seem to mind that last night, did you? No? Maybe you’re attracted to the danger, the thrill of something forbidden,” Marco purred saucily as he began to walk in circles around him “….tell me, did you plan on using yourself as bait to get close to me and kill me in my sleep because you know you can’t take me in a fight?”

“Something like that,” Jean admitted “but that’s because our intel on you was only suspected. Our actual proof lies only in the bootlegging, but it’s not even that because you only own the establishment. You’re not making it. Distributing it isn’t enough of a reason for neutralization.”

Knowing that their proof was moot, Marco stopped in front of him “I see, so you gonna try to kill me?”

“Protocol dictates I should with the proof I’ve seen,” Jean began “but you saved my life so, as I see it, you can keep yours. Saving me looks good on you, and sparing your rival’s life does as well.”

“Gee, thanks---wait,” Marco paused in his words as something caught his eye. A metallic gleam stole his attention as he finally noticed something more important than anything else. Around Jean’s left wrist was a silver bangle.  _ “---you’re---” _

Raising his arm and lowering his gun, Jean smirked deviously “This? Yeah, Marco, I’m an abnormal too.  _ Surprise. _  I’m a natural neutralizer. I don’t need to kill you to shred your DNA to pieces and reassemble it. I could strip you of your power, we could arrest you, and you’d go to prison without much a fuss for us. The second option I have is to tear you apart from the very fabric of what makes up your body, but it’s horribly messy and more than a touch painful. I’d prefer to have to do neither.”

“And somehow you want to let me go? Why do you even work the NEUTS?” Macro asked in pure astonishment.

Jean slid his pistol into the band of his pants and shrugged “Everyone can be dangerous, Marco. I may not be a stickler for rules and regulations, but that’s why they like me. I want to help people, keep them safe, but on my own terms. Now, go Marco. I don’t want to have to meet up with you again.”

“Why?” Marco posed as he slipped an arm around Jean’s waist. “Tell me so I believe it: did you have fun with me? You could have some more with me.”

Bewildered by his question, yet not rushing to shake him off, Jean answered “You’ve _  got _  to be kidding me. Marco, are you trying to insinuate that I should sleep with you?”

Nodding, Marco’s smiled turned impish “Maybe, I mean, why not? You’re gorgeous, you think I am too, and I know for a  _ fact _  that you enjoyed last night. You can’t fake that, that desperate pull in your gut clawing at you to take more than you were, the fervor behind your actions, or how you whined just slightly when I rocked my hips to get comfortable. Why not come take a walk on the wild side? I’m not saying you have to work for me….though I’m  _ sure _  I could spend every day of my life enjoying the attempt.”

Jean sputtered as he absorbed the words “I--I….you’re something else, Marco. Let’s say I did enjoy it, then what? When I turn in my report they’re just going to send me a new name to track down and then I’ll have to find a way to immerse into their life without so much as even a goodbye to anyone.”

“Sounds lonely,” Marco whispered “how are you supposed to take care of yourself like that, huh? No one waiting to take care of you? I can see you’re strong, determined, fiery, and tough, but you can’t _  always _  keep that up. How nice would it be to just let go of all that stress on you? Lift the weight of the world off you for just a little bit? I can  _ help _  you with that. You could report in that you should observe me, because I’m clearly  _ so _  dangerous, and you’d never have to go anywhere. A powerful man like you seems like the only type they’d send to observe someone like me. Maybe I’ll cause a little more ruckus to make sure you can stay.”

Giving into the silk in his words, Jean sighed “You’ve got a hell of a silver tongue, Marco, it’s almost _  sinful _  for you to look so innocent. A true wolf in sheep’s clothing. I’ve always been more of a ‘hands on’ type of guy, but I guess I could try it and see what they say. ”

“Oh, I’ve got  _ something  _ you can put your hands on,” Marco quipped as the heat of his breath rushed across Jean’s throat “and my tongue can do much more than entice you with seductive promises, Jean. Come with me. I find myself with a voracious appetite for something sweet.”

**Author's Note:**

> Dear tomyamnoodles,
> 
> My sincerest apologies for not following the prompt as you would have liked. I hope that you were still able to find some joy in reading it.
> 
> ~Hugs & Kisses,  
> ❤♠Neko A. Theirin❤♠


End file.
